Somehow
by Lyrical Rex
Summary: This is the story of how I fell, and how you picked me up. Malikcentric. Post Battle City, PreDoma. Slightest glimmer of MalikYami. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh.

Spoilers: Only the fact that Malik provides clues to the pharoah's past.

Rating: G

Notes: I just had the urge to write this. I hope it turned out well. There is only the slightest oh very slightest implications of shounen-ai between Malik and Pharoah Atemu.

Summary: This is how I fell, and how you picked me up.

It was dark and rainy, as cliche as it could get.

And I was alone in the darkness, wandering the streets aimlessly, so tired... I was about to fall.

And I did.

I fell, and I couldn't get up. I was just too weak, you see. My legs were worn out from walking, my hands were too cold to push myself up. I just couldn't...

And so I stayed in that postition, looking at the dark streets. At least I was on the sidewalks, so the cars that passed by didn't run me over, but merely splashed me a lot.

I was the hated one, the one who was not to be trusted. I was Malik Ishtar, the threat to the human existence. I was the one who once tried to kill them all... So that is how they don't trust me.

They act, sometimes, as if they trust me, but I can see it in they're eyes. They don't.

You see, I was only one to hate everything and everyone. Of course they wouldn't trust me. I didn't care who was in my way; all I had to do was kill the pharoah. The Pharoah. He caused my pain and my torture! Or so, I believed.

And after all that believing, it was myself that I hated. Myself, and myself only. My dark side wasn't just the dark half of me. He was me. Me. Maybe he acted out more than me, but we thought along the same lines, didn't we? We both wanted to kill, or be killed.

And I hated him, so in essentiality, I hated myself.

And I hated the world, that acted as if nothing were wrong.

I've seen many dark things in my days. I've rarely seen the Light of it all. How do people act as if every thing is all right?! People die and kill everyday. Where is the light in that?!

Well, then again, the only lights I could see from my seated position was the dim street lamp, and the light of an all night shop, the title unreadable.

And somehow, I found a hand stuck in my face. "Take my hand."

I looked up to see a face. The rain was too heavy for me to see through, but I only knew of one person with wild hair like that, and I knew only one person who slung his jacket on his back like a cape.

"What am I to you?" I spat. "I am your servant, the one who was to keep your secrets for you when you came. You have your secrets. You have no use for me.

"Well, that much is true." The pharoah chuckled a little, making my blood boil.

"Then why do you want to help me?" I hissed vehemously.

"Because you need the help. You need to get up." I swear, he was only tricking me.

"I don't need -your- help, you... you..." I sputtered the words out, trying to think of a good insult. "You!"

The Pharoah chuckled again. "So you can get up on your own?"

I just glared at him, and tried. I slipped and fell again. The tri-colored haired pharoah caught me by the elbow. I leaned my weight against him, and he took it. But then I remembered who it was that was holding me up. Again, I dropped myself down.

"I told you, I don't need your help." Stubbornly, I glared up at him.

"Yes you do." He was starting to get annoyed. "And I -want- to help you. You're soaked, and look at the clothes you're wearing! Your clothes isn't fit to keep a gypsy dancer warm!"

I smiled a bit at this joke. "Gypsy dancer, eh? So, are you starting to get your memory back, -Pharoah?-"

"I suppose." There was a silence, as lightning cracked across the sky and thunder boomed. I was indifferent to it all, but I shivered. It was still a dark and rainy night. Cold, much too cold for my attire.

"Somehow," I started slowly, "I'm believing that you're actually honest this time."

"Somehow, I don't remember a timewhen I have not been honest," the Pharoah replied.

Somehow, I ignored him and replied, "Whatever. Just... get me off the ground. Its dirty."

Somehow, through the cold thickness of the rain, I saw the hand that reached out to me. "Take my hand."

And somehow, I complied.

--Owari-- 


End file.
